


Standards

by MakeTheShippingStop



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Introspection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:23:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28301559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeTheShippingStop/pseuds/MakeTheShippingStop
Summary: Professionals have them.Musicians play them.He's both.[MEANT TO BE READ ON MOBILE~!]
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Standards

It was cold.

Before RED, he'd known he wasn't exactly an expert when it came to cold, what with having grown up where he did,

But he thought he'd at least known what cold  _was_.

Turns out no.

Very no.

He had not known what cold was.

Had not begun to conceive of what cold was.

He had not known the way you were supposed to layer which sorts of clothing

Or the way warmth evaporates right off yer face

The way your fingers stop working

The way metal sears your skin with frost before you can react to its touch

The way your feet's nerves sting hard in your boots before they start to go numb

The horrible way you start to sweat under your clothes once you DO learn to layer and then you get all gross and wet and then THAT cools and just

Why does this kind of cold exist, evolutionarily?

Didn't know at first it was an option to wear thermals under your pants.

Who would have figured that out?

Two pairs of pants.

America really was something else.

So here he was.

Cold.

At Viaduct.

Boots crunching into the thin layer of ice that had formed on the top of the snow since the previous evening.

Hunched behind a makeshift wooden wall attached to the bannister overlooking the point. 

Alternating breathing through his nose and his mouth when one got too cold on the inside.

It was a good thing he loved this job so much, or he'd have absolutely no reason to be standing here.

"C'mon y'little..."

That soldier wasn't gonna kill himself...

Well, actually maybe he was, but it was uncommon so he wasn't counting on it.

He readjusted his grip and exhaled to center himself.

Someone once told him to stop mumbling in-scope, claiming it was a good way to give his position away.

But he knew better, of course, since he'd been doin this job upwards of 25 years.

He'd always been far enough away that his targets would never hear him, and anyone close enough to hear him was gonna wind up dead, anyway.

What could he say?

He just liked the sound of his own voice.

Some people would call him arrogant or full of himself.

Some people could drop dead.

And they did.

Which is how he got to be here.

Despite the cold, he liked Viaduct for a couple reasons.

Main one being when blokes on the point caught on to him starting to pick them off, he had plenty of time to react to what they threw back at him.

"Oh no a rocket whatever shall I do."

Walk four feet to the left, that's what he'd do.

Place he was standing in was much more open than what he'd have preferred, sure, but that meant it had multiple escape routes when he was getting attacked.

Besides, it was more secure than the other cliff on the left half of his team's side.

As always, it was really just the spy he had to be even remotely concerned about.

He'd have built up a proper hatred for that bastard by now if it hadn't been for the fact that he was the only person Sniper had ever come to consider a rival.

Maybe "arch-enemy" was more fitting.

Rival made it sound like they were kids at some academy.

Then again arch-enemy may be over the top.

Neither of them were Superman.

All he knew was if he'd woken up to the news that the BLU spy had been shipped off to another team, he'd be genuinely disappointed.

Odd, maybe, but nobody else could get the drop on him.

Sometimes a scout could run up behind him and smack him a few times with a bat but the only way the kid would get out alive was if he scampered away without finishing Sniper off.

Everyone else was too heavy in their boots, especially here in the snow.

The BLU Spy wasn't.

He barely even left footprints most of the time, what's that about?!

Sniper grinned a little just thinking about figuring out how he did it.

He thought of it this way:

What was the bloody point in bein the best if nobody ever contended for the title?

Maybe for practicing the art of the kill alone, sure.

He supposed he'd done that for a while.

But without anyone to really show your art to, or share it with, you had to  really be okay with it on your own.

He knew this because he was definitely at that place playing the tenor saxophone.

Granted, none of his favorite sax records were solo recordings - there was always accompaniment of some sort.

But that didn't mean he needed his playing to be like that.

He absolutely loved playing through standards and soloing over the changes.

There was always a new way to do it.

Always something to discover, all on his own.

If his professional line of work had allowed for more experimentation and change, maybe he wouldn't have found another person's challenge to his standings interesting.

But here he was.

Cold.

At Viaduct.

Suddenly in respawn.

Shit.

He couldn't even fight against backstabs.

He could only try and listen for them.

Guess he hadn't hard enough, that time.

That had broken their tie and put him one point behind today.

He'd have to be more careful.

Well.

Actually he didn't  _ have _ to be anything.

In fact what were the chances that cocky little shit would actually play it safe n run after a kill like that?

Nah, Sniper was gonna try something.

He immediately jogged back up to his post and glanced back to the ledge leading from where he'd been, a little more toward the point.

He ambled over there from the balcony, theatrically looking around and then pretending he was about to go in-scope.

Then whirled around and launched a fullbody right hook at the air behind him.

His heart leapt when he felt his fist connect to a jawbone.

Blimey, what were the odds!

"gAAAHH!" BLU Spy let out a yelp and staggered to the left just enough to lose his footing and fall off the cliff, leaving a person-shaped indentation below his invisible body in the snow below.

That fall was just long enough for Sniper to swing his rifle around and guess where the spy's head would be based on that indentation...

BOOM

A rematerialized blue suit and a steadily growing pool of blood soaking into its shoulders.

That felt  _tremendous_.

He couldn't wait to see the look on that smug little worm's face when he saw him next.

And what he was gonna come up with to pay him back...

Sniper let out a triumphant laugh to himself

And got blown up by a rocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS (they're JAZZ standards get it --- GET IT)  
> Undeclared! is coming slow so I've started this more traditional one that I've been wanting to do for a while.
> 
> This is more canon-typical Sniper than my other ones so it'll be a nice change of pace for me.  
> That and. Y'know. Crossfaction for once hahaaaa  
> Happy holidays to you all, and thank you for the comments over the years.  
> Sending love  
> ♪( ´▽｀)ノ


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